They were now seated at the farthest extremity of the vast saloon, within the bay window. Elsie was looking very beautiful this evening. She was dressed in a gossamer white crape, over white satin. Her snowy arms and neck were bare, and encircled by diamond bracelets and necklace. She was always beautiful, but now her usually happy, joyous face was softened and deepened into an expression of serious thought and feeling ineffably charming. They had been conversing. Elsie had told him all that had passed between herself and her father. And Magnus had recounted a similar scene that had taken place between himself and General Garnet. He had, as Elsie had, asserted his determination to abide by their betrothal. He repeated the same thing to Elsie now. It was this—this saving of her heart’s fondest hopes amid the crash of fortune—that made Elsie feel and look so very blessed. They were still conversing. He raised her hand—she had an exquisitely beautiful hand, elegantly shaped, and white as snow, and now diamond rings sparkled upon it; appropriate ornaments for it, as one may see. Well, he raised that small, white, jeweled hand, and looking tenderly, half-remorsefully upon it, said—and his voice was full-toned and melodious with love and sorrow: “This tiny, snow-white hand, sparkling with diamonds—this fresh, pure, delicate thing!—a jewel itself!—how can it be put to the uses to which my wife’s hand must be put, Elsie?” She looked at him with passionate devotion, saying: “Take the jewels off and cast them from thee, Magnus—do!” “And this slender wrist—you have such a beautiful arm, Elsie! What a round, full, graceful curve from the elbow to the forearm, and how elegantly it tapers off to the slender wrist! Ah! this arm, so pure and fresh, so well decked with this sparkling diamond bracelet—like icicles upon snow! How will it support labor?” “The bracelet offends you, too? It was my father’s birthday gift; but I like it no longer—it offends you. Take it off and cast it from you. Press your thumb and finger around my arm instead. Press it tightly, so that you will leave a ring there. It will be a red bracelet—or even a black one; so that when I can no longer see you, I may close my eyes, and, feeling the impress of your fingers, cheat my heart with the fancy that you still grasp my wrist with a sweet violence. It will be another dearer bracelet that I will wear in remembrance of you. Oh, don’t you know I understand now the enthusiasm of the saints?”